


At the Bottom of the Ocean

by katimus_prime



Category: Xenoblade Chronicles 2 (Video Game), Xenosaga
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Stealth Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-02 22:17:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14554716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katimus_prime/pseuds/katimus_prime
Summary: Andrew Cherenkov contemplates his life and current situation on the Beach of Nothingness.





	At the Bottom of the Ocean

After Shion faded away, he closed his eyes and leaned back. A strong wind blew his hair out of place, and he reflexively fixed it even though there was no one there to see him. Panic still spun in his mind, but he felt it disengaging the longer he laid there on the grass.  His hands unclenched and his heart rate slowed. The familiar anger and terror of losing control was gone here. He was free now.

 

He got up to take a look around.  The ocean around the Beach of Nothingness seemed boundless and beautiful.  He bent down to test the temperature with his hands, expecting biting cold, but it was as warm as one of the tropical islands he remembered being deployed on in his youth.  He stood there for a few moments and watched the waves pull the sand around his boots.

 

This place was neither the heaven nor the hell Margulis and the other Ormus U-TIC had described to him. It was possibly Purgatory, but it didn't feel like any jail cell he remembered while he was alive. Considering there was no more need to watch his anger, he found himself quite enjoying it. He gave himself a moment to cry for how grateful he was to have this space.

 

It was refreshing to be able to enjoy the warmth of the ocean. It also felt good to pull a memory from the time before he was imprisoned on Ariadne. After his Level 9 Personality Reconditioning failed, he would get leaks of his real life from time to time, but it wasn’t anything he could control.  He could tell they were real because they didn’t have the saccharine blur to them that the set of memories the Ariadne government set him up with for Her. 

 

Sometimes he was glad he didn’t remember her name.  Margulis had all the information about her and whatever they named her daughter from public records, but he never touched it, fearing it would drive him over the edge needlessly.  His time in U-TIC was about rebuilding, discipline and self-control, not about hanging onto the past. Until Margulis made it about the past, of course. 

 

He felt himself scowling at nothing and looked down at his boots, now covered ankle-deep in sand. He uprooted himself and began walking away from the shoreline to see what was on the other side.

 

He wondered if anyone else would show up.  He had hoped and feared to see Margulis one last time, but the more he walked around, the more he knew he was alone.  He was too far away, had been for weeks, and the trust he had for the Commander was severely weakened with the incident on the Woglinde.  The fact that he was here was proof that he had given up, and Margulis’ faith in Cherenkov was entirely conditional upon his will to move forward.  In this, he was a failure. Expecting him was unreasonable. He had existed for the past few years for Margulis’ benefit, not the other way around.

 

He had no more life to lose, no one left to fail, but he missed the people who looked up to him and those he had admired.  He missed them terribly. Calling them friends would have seemed too familiar - friends were luxuries only civilians were allowed to have and keep - but he felt the loss just the same. He appreciated the small friendship that seemed to bloom with the few days on the Elsa with Miss Uzuki and the brief talks with its crew, but he felt she and the people who surrounded her had much more to give her than he ever could.  The warmth that surrounded them was not for him to take or damage. The world belonged to people like her, not people like him.

 

_ This is supposed to be what I wanted.  Don’t ruin it _ , he thought to himself.  _ Maybe this is Hell after all, and I’m trapped here with my own worst enemy. _

 

He had been left to his own devices for long enough that being alone shouldn’t have bothered him.  He often had to either work alone or be on point. The luxury of being a follower had been given to those who deserved it more, who needed protecting or training, who ended up with much better lives by default than he could ever have gotten himself.  He was incredibly jealous of those who didn’t have responsibility hanging dangerously over their heads. Even though the axe had dropped and he was clearly dead, the jealousy persisted.

 

He tried to think himself out of it, but it wasn’t taking, so he tried to banish it physically by taking his meandering stroll up to a jog and concentrated on exploring.

 

The further he ran from the shore, the closer he came to a sparse deciduous forest. Walking under the trees, he happened across a small, humble-looking church.  It looked to have been painted white at one point, but decades of wear and overgrown vines obscured it until he got close to it. One of its stained-glass doors hung open, and he walked in gingerly. 

 

He never felt like he deserved to be in the chapel on Pleroma, even when Margulis insisted he attend weekly services.  He sat in the back with the other faithless undesirables (most notably Dr. Sellers and from time to time, Albedo) to try to avoid judgemental stares from the full blooded Ormus, who bowed their heads for show and to prove to their peers that they followed the sacred traditions mandated by their ancestors.  Even when Margulis sat next to him, he had felt like an outsider observing something private and personal, and he felt his own presence disrespectful. 

 

But this chapel, possibly by virtue of being empty, gave off an aura that was more believably holy and dignified.  Light was coming through the windows at an angle, and as he walked around, he could see the dust in the air around him.  The pews were rough wood benches instead of cushioned fixtures built into a black marble floor, and several of them were misaligned or overturned.  There were branches scattered across the floor, and a weed or two grew up from underneath the floorboards.

 

A closed door at the back of the room attracted his curiosity, but as he walked toward it, he heard someone in hard-soled shoes walking behind him.

 

“What’s in there isn’t for you, Andrew.”

 

Cherenkov wheeled around and reached for his gun reflexively, but he had lost it somewhere between becoming a Gnosis and leaving the Elsa. His panic spiked back up in full and he whipped into a defensive stance, but no one was actually there.

 

The voice came again, this time from behind. “You should just wade back into the ocean like a good little nobody.”

 

Andrew spun back around gullibly, again seeing no one. “Come on now, if you’re going to fuck me, don’t be coy!”

 

“Temper temper, what kind of respectable person cusses in a church?”

 

He began to recognize the voice. “I know you...you were on Caricoa!  You were the one that rigged up the KOS-MOS Archetype!”

 

A man in a red cloak walked into the church. “You’re pretty good for a piece of garbage.”

 

Cherenkov felt his blood boil, but he couldn’t go into that mode here. “What do you want?”

 

“Some things are too good for the likes of you. I can’t just let you in that door.”

 

“I see.  I guess that just means I want to go in there more now that you’ve said something.”

 

The man in red reached a hand out into the air, contorting his fingers into a claw and Cherenkov felt pressure against his throat. “I’ve read all about you, Andrew Cherenkov. You got exactly what you deserved.  The Beach belongs to you, but you wandered out too far. It was an oversight. We thought you were just going to lie down and go to sleep like a good little dog, so we didn’t fence this place up appropriately.”

 

“If I’m so inconsequential, what the hell does it matter where I go now that I’m dead?”

 

The man in red paused for a moment before closing his hand into a fist, choking Cherenkov so hard he couldn’t even scream. “I don’t have to tell you anything!”

 

Suddenly, a green light pulsed from underneath the door and the man in red’s hold on him broke and he fell to the ground.  Andrew lifted himself up and gave him a death stare, but the Anger didn't take over. He didn't have it here, no matter how angry he got, apparently.  He was defenseless, and that was humiliating enough to make him Angrier, but it didn’t go. The man in red had taken a few steps back and when he looked over at the door, it was wide open. Previously, he would have spent time trying to fight the man in red, but the door called to him.

 

You don't need to deal with him at all.

 

Cherenkov rose to his feet and backed up into the doorway, keeping his glare connected until the door shut in front of him.

 

“I'm sorry he got in your space, Commander,” said another familiar voice. 

 

Cherenkov looked around him, looking for the voice’s owner.. The floor was illuminated white with a green halo around the edges, but the rest of the room was pitch black.  “You're the young man from the Elsa, aren't you?”

 

chaos came out of the shadows and smiled politely.  “Oh, you remembered me? I'm flattered.”

 

Cherenkov could see the outline of the door, but there was no reason to go back. “What is this place?”

 

“Consider this a... private server. Only you can see the things here. You can do anything you want, but to the outside world, it didn't happen.”

 

“How did that man in the red get here, then?”

 

“Some things are beyond even my control, I’m afraid.  I apologize. He and his kind think they own everything.”

 

“What does that mean, exactly?” he was trying not to ask in an accusing tone. “Am I really dead if someone living can enter this space?”

 

The boy gave a sympathetic grimace. “Well, to begin with, the way humans process death as permanent is different from what actually occurs. The Testaments get to break certain rules, even though we don’t want them to.  Please follow me!”

 

Cherenkov followed chaos along the hallway.  When the door to the chapel was out of sight, chaos waved a hand arbitrarily. “Oh, we don’t need this anymore I guess,” and the floor’s blinding light switched to a soft ultramarine in the dark..  

 

“I’m guessing they don’t like that green light, then?”

 

“Indeed,” said chaos, “The fact that you don’t means that you’re worthy.  You can thank Shion for that.”

 

“This is all very confusing…”

 

“Apologies again for that, Commander.  You may or may not understand in time. It’s up to what you want to know.”

 

Cherenkov decided that staying silent and appearing to seem friendly was the best course of action for the time being.  He and chaos walked along the hallway until they came to a horizontal escalator. Longwise holo advertisements with just a picture of the same tree on a clear day flashed by them. The light they gave off allowed him to see that the architecture of the hallway they were in was modern. The horizontal escalator ended and chaos walked out ahead of him. 

 

“Please watch your step, we’re headed downwards for a while,” chaos said, walking off the platform onto a downward escalator.  

 

Cherenkov followed dutifully, seeing more pictures of the tree. “What exactly is being advertised here?”

 

chaos thought for a moment, and Cherenkov saw his head tilt. “You know, I don’t think I remember it well enough to explain it anymore.  It’ll come to me later. It’s been a long time for me.”

 

A pang of annoyance sparked in him, but he knew better than to cross a child that could fight the Gnosis with his bare hands. 

 

When they finally got to the bottom, there was a door to the left.  chaos motioned his hand out to let him enter first. “After you, Commander.”

 

The air was dense and moist in this room, and completely dark.  He looked behind him and the dim lights from outside crossed into the room at an angle. He walked forward carefully, completely blind to where he was going, his anxiety heightening again. Something pulled him in a certain direction and he looked back at chaos, who nodded calmly.  The next few steps were heavy, but he felt himself being pulled upwards. His feet left the floor and he let out a gasp as he felt himself become suspended in mid-air.

 

The entire room lit up around him, a brighter version of the blue in the hallway, an arrangement of concentric circles radiating out from the spot he was suspended in.  

 

“Scanning now, please hold position,” came the voice of a female AI he didn’t recognize. A series of green lights raked him over and a ping sounded in the room. “50% match.  Results inconclusive.”

 

It let Cherenkov down on his feet safely and he turned to look at chaos again.

 

“Only fifty percent?  I could have sworn that…” chaos sighed. “No, it doesn’t matter anymore, I suppose. Maybe she’s forgotten quite a lot herself.”

 

Cherenkov looked around him. “Now I’m really confused.  What am I half a match for?”

 

“She’s looking for her father.  I thought it might be you, so I wanted to make sure she got the chance to try.”

 

A young woman with green hair in a ponytail walked up from one of the corners of the room. “It’s all right, it’s not him.  Or if it is him, he hasn’t been him for so long that it doesn’t matter anymore.”

 

“Are you sure you want to say that even though he just got here?” came a strong male voice from the other side of the room. “Maybe he’s just asleep.  You of all people should know how that goes.” The man that walked forward had Margulis’ build, but his face belonged to pictures he had seen of Gaignun Kukai, and the way that he walked reminded him of Albedo.

 

“Shut up, asshole!  What if he’s just some random guy?” said the girl.

 

“Logos, Pneuma, there’s no need to get combative.  It’s been a long time, and things are...very broken. We’ll just see what happens with this, all right?”

 

The three of them surrounded the Commander, standing around him in an equilateral triangle. There was no masking his discomfort, but the least he could do was apologize. “I’m really sorry, I wasn’t quite ready for this.  I’m definitely not anyone’s father, and I don’t want to cause any more trouble than I already have.”

 

The girl got up in his face and stared into his eyes critically, but not maliciously. She stepped back and turned to the black-haired man. “He’s not our father, Logos.” 

 

Logos took his turn getting up in Cherenkov’s face. “You’re wrong, Pneuma. Something’s definitely there.” Logos stepped away and turned to chaos. “Thanks for bringing him here, Ontos.  Even if he’s not, I think we can help each other out. It’s a better lead than we’ve had in the last 4000 years at least.”

 

chaos scratched at the back of his head. “Thanks!”

 

Logos offered his hand out for Cherenkov to shake.  He gripped too tight and shook with his entire arm, then asked, “What was your name, sir?”

 

“A-Andrew Cherenkov.”

 

Pneuma stepped forward and offered her hand as well.  Her grip was perfect, but her hands were dry and ice cold. “I didn’t mean to be unkind, Mr. Cherenkov.  Hopefully we can at least help you get comfortable.”


End file.
